Bucket List
by fluffy pantoufle
Summary: Lara has had one too many shots of whiskey. Alex is playing the role of designated driver. Sad, unrequited thoughts ensue. [Pre-Yamatai. One-shot. Lara/Alex. Rated T for naughty words.]


_Bucket List  
_by: fluffy pantoufle

disclaimer: nothing from the tomb raider franchise belongs to me.

details: alex/lara, one-shot, rated T for language.

**a/n: **it's kind of ridiculous how this piece came to be - i couldn't get the song "story of my life" by one direction out of my head. i don't know why, because i am not particularly fond of them by any stretch...but whatever. i liked the idea of alex driving around in a car with lara, having all sorts of personal, one-sided thoughts.  
as the piece goes on, i found inspiration in other (and much better, IMO) songs: "the mixed tape" by jack's mannequin, "coconut skins" by damien rice, "lua" by bright eyes, "whistle for the choir" by the fratellis, "foolish love" by rufus wainwright... basically, you could make yourself a sad little playlist and read this fic. entirely up to you. hahaha  
also, i've always imagined alex weiss as being from new jersey. don't ask me why, and maybe it has to do with my other fic... but seeing as i, myself am from jersey, and i find him to be a relatable character, i just made that assumption all on my own. : )

* * *

Lara probably isn't even going to remember this in the morning. I haven't decided yet whether or not that's a good thing. She won't want to remember herself dancing on the table at the bar. Nah, that's not her style. I'm surprised it even happened, to be honest. I'll do her a favor and _not _mention that tidbit if she asks me about the night's festivities, though Sam'll more than likely mention it and make her all sorts of self conscious.

The way Lara told that self-inflated asshole of a bouncer she'd rip his trachea out and wear it as a necklace, well...maybe I'll tell her that part. I was pretty proud of her for that comment.

Ah! I need to stop looking at her while I drive. Never quite got used to these backwards British roads, and even though I stopped drinking hours ago...

...just one more peek.

God, she's so beautiful. It should be a crime for girls to be as effortlessly, ridiculously beautiful as Lara Croft. Like, there's Victoria's Secret model beautiful - which even though I _appreciate _those women, I'm also smart enough to realize that they won't ever exist within the breathing space of a guy like me. But then there's something else, something so indescribably fucking attractive that even for all the words that are stuffed into my brain, I can't possibly articulate what I mean. Even so, that's Lara in a nutshell.

We aren't even all _that_ close, as much as I hate to admit it. I don't think she takes me very seriously - I remember that day she stopped over my apartment unannounced to ask if I'd take a look at her laptop. She was trying to finish a paper on Japanese mythology or something and I started yammering about anime. Personally, I thought there was a conversation to be had there, but I guess 24-year-old men shouldn't be admitting of their own free will that they watch a cartoon with a target audience of adolescent girls if they want to get a date with an actual woman.

I'm still a little pissed about that day, even though it was, shit...at least six months ago. Maybe if she _called _me first I would have had a chance to spruce up the place, hide my _X-Files _poster behind the couch, stuff the Marvel action figures on my shelves in a drawer - I don't know. I never got the chance to show her that I could be a contender.

Fuck, now I sound like Marlon Brando. _Whatever_.

Hopefully, Sam will put in a good word for me tomorrow morning - that is, if Sam isn't praying to the porcelain gods herself. What is that stuff called her and Jonah were drinking...fireball whiskey? All I know is that Reyes was giving them the side-eye from hell all night. I get enough shit from her, the last thing I needed was her heckling me about being a lightweight. Pulling a stint as designated driver might get her off my back for at least a day or two, not to mention disguise the fact that I can't drink more than three beers without getting as sloppy drunk as a freshman sorority pledge.

Everyone is so excited about this Yamatai expedition coming up, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. The mainland isn't exactly the _safest _place for me right now (side note: hacking into government files for funsies will _not _earn you friends in high places, just a warrant), and Roth is just barely letting me stay on the _Endurance. _With any luck, being Lara's chauffeur for the evening will win me some brownie points with the guy.

I'm just outside Lara's apartment building and I park the car in an illegal spot right in front of the entrance. It doesn't matter - all that matters is getting her inside, and if it costs me a parking ticket it'll be money well spent.

She looks so comfortable, I hate to move her. I threw my jacket over her as soon as we got in the car. Springtime in London is cold even on the best day, but drinking and sweating in a bar and _then _stepping out into the night air is downright brutal. Lara's outfit is clearly something of Sam's design - way too skimpy and neon-colored. I noticed her tugging at it all night, uncomfortable every time a guy walked past her.

Needless to say, my fists have been clenched since about eight o' clock. Not that I could ever see myself having big enough balls to actually attack another human being. I'm not very good with blood. I feel like I'd be able to do it for Lara, though - or at least try.

I've already shut the car off, but I'm in no rush. Honestly, it's just incredible to see Lara asleep. She's always got her nose in a book, and if she's not doing that she's either exercising or running errands or arguing the finer points of the upcoming expedition with that douche nozzle, Jimmy Whitman. I'm in awe of her energy - half the time if I have to get up before ten-thirty in the morning I need about a gallon of coffee and a Red Bull to get the sleepers out of my eyes.

...it's almost scary. Is that weird to say? Lara just operates on another wavelength entirely. Even if she _did_ notice me, even if she let me in on just a fraction of her life, I probably wouldn't be able to keep up. And to be one hundred percent fucking truthful with you, the fear of letting her down is worse than the knowledge that she'll never be mine.

If (in a parallel universe) I could even work up the courage, how do I begin to tell her how I feel? Is it out of line for someone like me to even imply affection for someone like her? How fucked up is that - for me to think it _rude _to admit my love for Lara out loud?

Oh, shit. _Love? _No, no - forget you heard that. I didn't say 'love.' I said, uh...not that. I don't _love _Lara Croft. There just so happens to be a piece of her in every single second of every single day of my life. What's the word for that?

I just hope that Yamatai works out for her. It's a great opportunity for the rest of us to go on an adventure - and for me not to get arrested in civil society, which is always a plus - but it's so much more to Lara. If we find this place, and it turns out to have all the ruins and relics and whatever else is supposed to be there...well, fucking Whitman will probably try to take all the credit for it, first of all. But it'll be Lara's success, too.

Her eyes sparkle when she talks about Yamatai. Don't ask me why I notice these things. I just do. I just wish that I was as passionate about anything as Lara is about archaeology...well, there _was_ that one time my friend and I tried to visit all the locations in the Weird New Jersey travel guide, but when we got to a place called the Devil's Tree neither one of us had the guts to get out of the car. The same thing happened when we got to the Gates of Hell. Basically, every stop began and ended with us sitting in the car, metaphorically pissing ourselves.

Even if I can't be an adventurer, I can still try to help Lara - she's got the potential, even if she might not realize it yet. I've played enough RPGs in my time to recognize the telltale signs of a hero.

"...Alex? Where are we?"

I'm a little surprised that she's awake, but glad to see that she seems alert. A part of me _really _wanted to carry her up the stairs, though - guess I'll add it to my bucket list.

"You're home, L.C.. It's time for bed."

"God, I think you're right... I feel bloody awful."

"Color me surprised! Sam was feeding you alcohol like it was Kool-Aid."

"I didn't do anything I'll regret tomorrow, did I?"

I've never lied to Lara in the past, and I don't intend to now. She's not the kind of person you lie to in confidence - nay, she will find out the truth. And fast. Especially when it comes to irresponsible drinking behavior. So I said what any self-respecting guy with an unrequited crush would say:

"No, L.C. - you were perfect. You deserved to celebrate, especially because after you rediscover Yamatai you're going to be a famous archaeologist and forget all about us."

She looks legitimately upset that I would insinuate such a thing. "Oh, Alex, don't you ever say that," she slurs. "That's bollocks. I don't deserve to have...friends like you..."

"I think it might be the other way around," I say. "Can't speak for everyone, but..."

I've never deserved you, Lara Croft. The fact that you're even in this car with me right now defies the fates and all the laws of the universe. You are brilliant and stunning and driven and though I should be inspired by you, I'm terrified of your strength. One day, you're going to realize that you don't need me dragging you down. You're going to cut the dead weight, and I'm going to sink like a stone.

There's nothing for me to offer you but my weird sense of humor, those Marvel action figures I was talking about earlier, and an unwavering admiration that I have never had for another person before. Sadly, none of these things are useful from an archaeological standpoint. But I still hope that one day, if you decide to stay in one place for awhile, you'll keep me in mind. I can be good to you - we can have the most kick-ass love story of all time, you know, like something you'd only read in a really good book.

Of course, I can't say any of this to her, and even if I did she won't remember a word. Once again, I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not, but I'll play it close to the vest this time. Less chance of disappointment that way.

I get out of the car and walk around to the passenger door in order to let her out. Lara lets me grab her hands and - Lord have mercy, she's fucking _resplendent. _Who uses that word? I do, because it's the only word to describe her crooked smile and the gleam in her eyes as she looks into mine.

"We're going on a _brilliant_ adventure, Alex," she says, and I know her grip on reality is hazy at best. Fireball whiskey: one. Lara Croft: zero. Without getting too touchy, I skillfully guide her to the front door and usher her inside. "I just want to be magnificent... I want to make people proud to know who I am."

"Are you serious?" I say, astounded. "Lara, is this the whiskey talking?"

"No, why?"

"Because you're the most magnificent human being I've ever met."

The hallway of the building is dim and has these clinically white walls and burgundy carpets, but I feel like David Bowie in that bubble scene from _Labyrinth _(without the creepy pants) and I'm not sure what that means, but I'm rolling with it.

"I...I..."

I want to tell her that it's okay if she doesn't have a response to what I just said. There were no expectations behind that statement - it was just a fact. We stand in awkward silence for several long moments and I'm afraid that I might actually melt into one big, embarrassed puddle. My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I make no move to answer as it's probably just Jonah or Sam checking up on us.

I'm surprised when instead of saying anything, Lara allows herself to fall forward into my arms. "Hey, are you all right?"

"Yes... I just don't want to walk anymore. Don't...tell Roth, okay?" She yawns. "I told him we were going out for...champagne..."

Her head is on my shoulder and I can hear her breath in my ear, not to mention that I smell the whiskey which is essentially seeping out of her pores. I made a mental note to scold Sam for being so careless - she knows that Lara isn't a big drinker. My arms slip around her back to hold her up, and as she entrusts me with more and more of her body weight I wonder if she's sober enough to realize exactly who's holding her. Not that I would try anything, of course. "Your secret's safe with me, L.C. - don't worry about it."

"Thank you...you're one of the good ones, Alex."

I don't have time to ask Lara what she means by that statement - the sound of her breath quickly becomes the sound of soft snoring, and before I know it I'm already checking off the most recent addition to my bucket list. She's cradled against my chest now...how can she possibly be so light? It makes me realize how delicate she is, though that's something she'll never freely admit.

This is all going to be a dream come morning. Lara's much too proud to let anyone hold her up, literally or otherwise, and when I tell her about how she got home tonight I'm sure she'll just thank me and walk away. I don't think it's her being callous...but how could I possibly compete with Yamatai?

Christ, I always fall for the ambitious ones. Until now, it didn't hurt so much. I just...I can't believe how simple everything seems underneath the cover of moonlight, you know? It won't always be this way - I'm not naive - but I can hope.

In the meantime, at least I get to be her hero for this one night. How often does a guy like me get a chance like that, eh?


End file.
